Cod Fish Filet de Mornette

There are a few dishes the Farmer’s Wife grew up with which still grace her table today (and from talking to a cousin or two, it appears Mema grew up with these recipes as well).

Now, there are some the Farmer’s Wife never cares to eat again—that patty made from canned salmon, creamed with flour. Or that dried beef. No. Wait. She still makes that. But not the salmon. Salmon needs to be fresh or smoked or not at all.

And then there’s this Cod. It has been known to be called Creamed Cod Fish, but that does not sound nearly fancy enough, so the Farmer’s Wife goes with the title her own Mother gave it: Cod Fish Filet de Mornette. I think it was meant to sound French, and thereby very fancy indeed.

To begin with, fresh or salted cod may be used. On the Farm, salted is preferred. Maybe because that’s the way Mema always made it…

If going with salted, then it will need to be soaked overnight, changing the water once or twice along the way. Once that is done, everything else is the same.

The fish (a pound’s worth) is placed in a shallow frying pan with an inch or so vegetable stock (or water with onion bits, a celery stalk or two, and a few carrot shavings thrown in for good measure), and left to cook, covered just until it flakes. It is then removed from the heat and set aside for now.

In a separate saucepan, four tablespoons butter are melted and with them, one minced shallot. This is stirred until all is bubbly and nice. Four tablespoons flour are whisked in and they keep on getting whisked, too, until all that flour taste has been cooked away. To the pan is added a half cup dry white wine, which is also cooked and stirred a bit. Once all is smooth, a cup and a half cream is added, and yes stirred, and left until boiling. Yes, the cream was the Farmer’s Wife’s addition. Her mother just uses milk, but even she acknowledges the improvement.

Once all is thick and bubbly, salt and pepper are stirred in to taste, as well as a quarter teaspoon cayenne pepper and one of freshly grated nutmeg. And, of course, there’s the cheese. Usually, the Farmer’s Wife uses a nice, freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano, about a half cup, but there’s been known to be an occasion or two when she’s substituted Gruyere or Asiago. But please, whatever you do, don’t tell Mema.

Now. It’s ready to be assembled. The fish is removed from the stock with a slotted spoon (you may even want to pat it dry with a paper towel, just to make sure it’s good and dry) and placed in a two-quart casserole pan. The cream sauce is spooned over all, and topped with just a bit more cheese of choice and a tad of freshly grated nutmeg. The dish is placed in a preheated three-hundred-and-fifty-degree oven and left to cook for thirty minutes or until the sauce is bubbly and the top is golden. It’s served immediately overtop a pile of smooth and creamy garlic mashed potatoes, and yes, a side of veggies—lima beans being the vegetable of choice.